Faith bristled. It was against post policy to drink alcohol during the duty day, although that policy was widely ignored. In fact, it was usually only enforced as an add-on offense, or when someone in a position of authority wanted to be a dick. This, Faith new, was probably going to be one of those times.
“Captain Faith,” The Dud intoned, “have you been drinking during the duty d-d-d-“
“Day?” Captain Criss offered helpfully. He just couldn’t help himself. The Dud glared at him menacingly.
Criss was undaunted. “Oh, us, sir? Well, I’m sure none of us would ever want to break post policy.” This was technically true; no one ever really “wanted” to break post policy, they just kind of did it.
“Then how do you explain this?” MAJ Roberts challenged, gesturing to the half-full pitcher of beer CPT Criss still held in his hand.
Criss shrugged. “A little take-out for after duty hours?” he offered.
Faith groaned inwardly. While Criss was an extremely happy, go-lucky guy, he tended to be extremely sarcastic when he was drunk. That was unlikely to be helpful in this situation.
MAJ Roberts pulled out his cell phone. “I’m going to call the MPs and ask them to administer a breathalizer test,” he announced. “I’m disappointed, Scotty,” he added condescendingly, as if Faith really gave a damn what Roberts thought about him.
At this point, CPT Criss looked positively livid. Faith’s wife, Linda, looked ashen. For his part Faith felt… nothing. He really didn’t care. This situation just reinforced in his mind that getting the hell out of the Army as soon as possible was the right decision.
Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Faith’s current supervisor, MAJ Everly, walked into the club with two other field grades that Faith recognized were officers from the 116th Trans. Faith liked Everly, but Everly struck Faith as the kind of guy that was unwilling to make waves and would get pushed around by people like Roberts and The Dud. Everly was utterly… uninspiring in his rumpled, ill-fitting uniform and bespeckled, overweight appearance. Faith hoped that Everyly wouldn’t spot him, but that didn’t happen.
“Hey Scott,” Everly said in genuine enthusiasm. “Glad to see you here. Want to join us for a drink?”
“Captain Faith has already had enough, thank you,” MAJ Roberts informed him. Everly looked annoyed, and not with CPT Faith.
“Interesting,” Everyly replied non-commitedly. “What’s this?” he inquired, patting the Bronze Star pinned to Faith’s chest.
Faith shrugged. “Just doing my job,” he answered.
“He’s just being modest,” CPT Criss interjected. “He got that for being the only MI officer worth a damn in all of 2nd Group.”
“Well, I certainly believe that,” Everly said. “Earning a Bronze Star is a pretty big deal, and definitely calls for a celebration. Why don’t all of you join us, first round is on me.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” MAJ Roberts interjected flatly. “He’s staying right here until the MPs get here, then he’s going to take a breathalizer test, which will show he is drunk on duty, and then he will be turned over to his chain of command for prosecution.”
“You’re an asshole,” CPT Criss hissed through his teeth.
“You- shut the fuck up,” Everly said, pointing directly at CPT Criss. To Faith’s surprise, Criss did as he was told.
“You-“ he said to Roberts, “let me tell you something. CPT Faith’s ‘chain of command’ is standing right here. Call the MP’s all you want; Faith’s not getting prosecuted for anything. You don’t run shit in 116th Trans, I do. So let me tell you what I’m going to do in this situation. I’m going over to the bar to raise a glass to CPT Faith and his Bronze Star, and if you or the MP’s don’t like that, you can take it up with our brigade command when he gets here. In fact, there he is right now.”
MAJ Everly’s words and assertiveness were so far removed from what everyone expected from him, that everyone else stood there in stunned silence.
“You,” Everly said to Faith, “Go home.” “You,” he said, pointing at Faith’s wife, “Drive.”
“You,” he said shifting his gaze and his finger to point at CPT Criss, “Give me that.” After he had taken the half-empty pitcher of beer he continued, “Get four glasses and another pitcher of beer and join us at the table in the back.” He sniffed the pitcher suspiciously. “Make it better beer than whatever this is. First round is on you for interrupting when grown folks were talking.”
“Oh, and you two,” he said, pointing to Roberts and The Dud, almost as an afterthought, “you have a nice fucking day.”